The sky cracked open with the sound of a disappointed sigh.
Then it rained.
Not water. Not glitter. Not frogs this time.
But... **one-star reviews.**
Tiny, glowing celestial comment cards floated gently to the ground, each one handwritten in swirling ink.
> "The pacing is all over the place."
> "Too many ducks."
> "Grubnuk is my favorite but WHY IS HE COVERED IN JAM."
> "Ow!" I yelped as one slapped me in the face. "This one just says 'Try harder.'"
Plotbert hovered nervously.
> "They've found us."
> "Who?" I asked.
> "The Critic."
Thunder rumbled.
A beam of pretentious lighting split the ground.
From it rose a floating, oversized quill with a monocle and a mustache made of paper shreds.
> "Greetings," it boomed. "I am The Critic. And I have come... to evaluate your continued relevance."
Everyone groaned.
Clucksworth fainted.
Kevin began chanting "I'm not here I'm not here I'm not here."
The Critic unfurled a scroll so long it slapped Mortax in the face mid-snarl.
> "You will now face your review tribunal. Starting with... animated manifestations of your worst decisions."
A puff of smoke.
And there they were.
* The bread knight who swore revenge after Chapter 18.
* The clone of the MC from Chapter 11 that no one remembered.
* A tax form.
> "YOU ABANDONED ME MID-SUBPLOT!" the clone shouted.
> "You filled me out in CRAYON," the tax form whispered in pain.
Arc groaned.
> "This again."
Plotbert tried to mediate.
> "Everyone breathe. Let's keep this orderly—"
A nearby chair turned around.
It had eyes.
And a soul.
> "Shut up, Plotbert," it said. "Your face is a comma splice."
> "Oh gods," Plotbert whimpered. "It's CHAD."
Chad, the chair, began ranting about passive voice.
Grubnuk threw jam at him.
Chaos unfolded.
Meanwhile, Kevin picked up a glowing review card.
> "Wait... I have a 4.2-star rating?!"
Everyone froze.
> "WHAT?!" I shouted.
> "People like Kevin?" Arc said in disbelief.
Kevin flexed dramatically.
> "Apparently my anxious screaming is *relatable.*"
The Critic floated silently, reviewing Kevin's fan art folder.
> "Hmm. He does have surprising market appeal."
> "He still can't cook!" I shouted.
> "Neither can you!" Kevin snapped back.
Lyria rubbed her temples.
> "Can we just pass the tribunal before someone gets turned into punctuation?"
The Critic floated closer.
> "Fine. You've survived... for now. But your next trial will be even more *meta.*"
Then it vanished into a cloud of grammatical dust.
Plotbert hiccuped.
> "That... could've gone worse."
Chad the chair flipped them all off and disappeared.
---
*End of Chapter 44 (Reviewed. Roasted. Somehow Kevin won. Chad remains a problem.)*